Dads Being Dads
by RedCoatsRedder
Summary: Bard is wandering around after the battle and runs into King Thranduil. Somehow the two end up talking about everything from mortality to their sons. Mostly their sons. Turns out they might have a bit more in common than they thought. *NO SLASH* sorry


In the aftermath of the battle, Bard was left feeling a bit awkward. Sure, he'd just killed the dragon whose threat had hung like a black cloud over his town for many years, and everywhere he went people toasted his name with bright smiles on their faces. But it was getting to be a little discomforting.

So he went back to his own house, which was thankfully quiet, save for his son, who seemed to have had the same idea as his father. But even Bain greeted him with a hug and a cry of, "You killed the dragon! People are talking of making you our leader, a king!"

Gods damn it all.

After he caught up on the news of the people from his son (really, king did seem a bit much, but he would like to help rebuild the city to its former splendor) he urged Bain to go and lay down, after all, it had been an exciting day, hadn't it? As soon as he was certain his son was asleep, he slipped out into the streets again, wandering around as the sun slipped lower in the still-smoky sky, though the fires were long since out.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice where his feet were taking him, and only really came back to himself when he bumped into another wanderer.

"Sorry, good man, I'm a bit lost in my thoughts." he muttered, intending to push on pass until he realized just who he'd run into.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood blinked down at him, still in his silver armor from the battle.

They owed a great deal to the elves of Mirkwood, who'd come to their aid with food supplies and promises of help. Thus far, they seemed to be fulfilling that promise. Bard had met the king before, but only for a brief time right before battle. Still, he seemed likable. Sort of.

"No need to apologize." The king said slowly. "I suppose I am a bit lost in my thoughts as well."

"Well then, perhaps we can walk a little ways and be lost in our thoughts together." Bard suggested. "That way at least, one of us can possibly rescue the other should we wander off the edge of a dock without noticing."

The elf king's mouth twitched in what might've been a smile. "Why not."

So here he was, ambling around town with the Elvenking by his side, neither one of them saying anything, just thinking and staring at the sky from time to time. Fortunately, they did not come close to stepping off a dock and into the cold water below.

Finally, unable to stand the silence, Bard asked a question. "What's it like being immortal?"

Thranduil snorted. Or at least, that's what Bard thought he did. Elves were so hard to read. "What's it like knowing you'll inevitably die?"

"I don't know. We don't really think about it, I suppose. I think if we did, we'd all be too terrified to do much anything, so we just live as though time will pass us by." Bard rubbed at his chin in thought.

"Ah." Thranduil was silent for a moment. "Being immortal is like being trapped behind glass, watching as the world changes around you. I am over six thousand years old. I have seen cities rise and fall, and many of the places I loved when I was young are no more. It makes the idea of death rather terrifying. We aren't supposed to die, and yet so many do. It is a cruel irony. In truth, I think you mortals are quite brave."

Bard wasn't sure if he should be touched or run away screaming to deal with a budding existential crisis. So he changed the subject. "What about family? Who do you have waiting at home?"

A spark sprang to life in the elf's eyes. Clearly, Bard had picked a good topic. "No one at home. My only family is here with me. My son, Legolas. He's somewhere around here." Thranduil scanned the rooftops. "Probably running off and getting into trouble."

Delighted to have found common ground with the elf, Bard happily informed the king about his own son. "Bain is sixteen. He certainly gets into his fair share of trouble, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. I couldn't be prouder of him."

"Legolas is two thousand, eight hundred and seventy one. I think in human terms, he'd be roughly twenty? Anyways, he's always picking fights with spiders and orcs in the forest, and I would assign a guard to watch him if I didn't know he'd manage to escape. The forest likes him too much." Thranduil shook his head in fond exasperation. "But he's an excellent shot with a bow and arrow, and can dual-wield knives. I taught him that."

They continued walking through the city, exchanging stories about their children. Bard told Thranduil about the time Bain had snuck out at night with a boat and gotten lost, sending him into a panic the next morning as he scoured every inch of water looking for his son, only to find him sheepishly sitting in the bow of a returning fisherman's boat several hours later. Thranduil regaled him with tales of his son when he was younger and the plethora of woodland creatures he'd bring home with him.

Eventually, they ended up in front of Bard's house. Unwilling to pass up on the opportunity to continue telling the elf more embarrassing stories about Bain, and also hearing more stories about the king's own son, Bard invited Thranduil in for a drink.

He was just reaching for the doorknob when they both heard a loud thump from inside the house, followed by laughter. Their eyes met, and slowly, both pulled out weapons. Bard flung open the door, and they stepped inside, prepared to deal with whatever sight they might find within.

They were so not prepared to deal with the sight they found within.

Bain was holding several things in his hands, mostly pieces of driftwood that Bard had picked up around the lake and used for decoration, but also a bit of a broken pot and something gray-brown in color that couldn't be identified. Hopefully, it was just lake trash. More objects, struck with arrows, littered the floor.

That wasn't even the strangest thing- a young man with long blond hair-scratch that, an elf with long blond hair, dressed in shades of green and clutching a bow, was perched on the back of one of their chairs. When the door opened, he wobbled precariously but maintained his position.

All four of them spoke at the same time.

Bain said, "Hi Dad! Look, I made a friend."

The blond elf on the chair said, "Hello, Adar. I finally found you!"

Bard didn't actually say anything, just sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

Thranduil made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "Down, Legolas."

So this was the king's son. Bard studied him for a moment, and then said out loud, "I see it. You look a lot like your father."

Legolas started at that and did fall off the chair. From his new spot on the floor, he blinked up at Bard, before announcing happily, "You must be Bard! Bain has told me about you."

"And you're King Thranduil, right?" Bain asked.

The elder elf nodded. "Indeed. May I ask what on Arda you two are doing in here?"

"We're playing a game! I told Bain about how we practice with moving targets in Mirkwood from time to time, and he told me that he's done the same thing. So we're seeing who can hit the most targets while the other throws them." Legolas explained, getting back to his feet.

"And you had to use the driftwood?" Bard asked, wounded.

"Sorry Dad. We can always go find some more." Bain stooped to gather the arrow-ridden wood from the floor. "Besides, just turn the parts with the arrow holes towards the wall and no one will be the wiser."

Thranduil laughed at that. "He does have a point."

Bard threw his hands up in exasperation. "Very well. I think I am going to need two drinks to get over this."

Their sons perked up at that, Thranduil scowled at Legolas. "No. You're not allowed to have anything stronger than water for the next year. You remember what happened on the summer solstice. And I'll remind you that Elrond backed me on that decision."

Though Bard would have very much liked to hear what had happened on the summer solstice, it didn't seem like either elf was keen on sharing. Legolas had turned a bright red that was slowly making its way to the tips of his ears.

Thranduil smiled and ran a hand over his son's head. "Why don't you and Bain practice outside? You're less likely to break something out there, and besides, close range practice is too easy for you, ion-nin."

Both boys grinned at that, and, grabbing their bows, arrows, and more of Bard's driftwood collection, raced out the door and into the cool evening.

Thranduil turned to Bard with a half smile playing on his lips. "I only accept responsibility for the damages Legolas causes."

Bard laughed and went to see if he could track down something that didn't taste like lakewater.


End file.
